


practice makes perfect

by Aminias



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Chris Argent, BAMF Stiles, Competency Kink, Kink, M/M, Old Porn, PWP, Shameless Smut, Shooting Guns, Stiles is just hot for teacher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 17:00:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20411209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aminias/pseuds/Aminias
Summary: Christ argent gives Stiles some weapons instruction“Good.” Chris praised ruffling his hair. Stiles tried not let his thoughts linger on the word.He couldn’t afford to get lost in that rough touch. A few more minutes couldn’t hurt? Could they? What if he wanted it to hurt?  Stiles enjoyed the tug of Chris’s calloused hands through his hair as the man itched his scalp. He shook his head. He grinned at Chris, snapping his teeth playfully at the man's fingers.





	practice makes perfect

**Author's Note:**

> this is about two years old i think i found it sitting on drive figured id toss it up here since its collecting dust 
> 
> I really didn't feel like re writing or editing this beyond how it already had been touched so take it for what it is i suppose

“Yeah, well when did you get so dogmatic?” His fingers clenched tight around the base of the gun. Every nerve in him screamed in warning not to move.

“Don’t take that tone with me.” Chris’s voice rumbled in his ear. Stiles swallowed, fidgeting. He adjusted his stance several times to no avail. What if he didn't make the shot? He couldn’t hesitate now, he’d only fuck it all up later when it counted. What if he froze like this when an enemy were to leap at him? What if he--A hand came to rest on his shoulder. 

Stiles could feel the weight and heat through his T-shirt.

“Breathe.”  _ Air, that's something he needed to control...to breathe...to shoot. _

“You're overthinking it.”  
“I know I -”

“Stiles, stop,” Chris reprimanded. “Take it step by step. You know what you're doing,” 

he reassured, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. “Accuracy now, speed later.”

Stiles wet his lips, throat parched as he cocked the weapon. 

“In.” The hunter coached. He sighted the target down the line of the gun, body still and poised to shoot. 

“Out.” Stiles finished firing off the shot. For several moments everything narrowed to the movement of the gun in his hands and the angle down range needed to hit. Stiles finished the round and set the gun carefully down. 

“Good.” Chris praised ruffling his hair. Stiles tried not let his thoughts linger on the word. 

He couldn’t afford to get lost in that rough touch. A few more minutes couldn’t hurt? Could they?  _ What if he wanted it to hurt?  _ Stiles enjoyed the tug of Chris’s calloused hands through his hair as the man itched his scalp. He shook his head. He grinned at Chris, snapping his teeth playfully at the man's fingers.

The hunter chuckled with amusement, a low and chest-deep sound that did things to Stiles’s brain.

Filthy things like hijack it and make him wonder how those calloused hands would feel ... everywhere. Especially on his dick and in his. . . Stiles cheeks felt warm and he suddenly grew interested in the ground. 

Chris cleared his throat and took a step back.

_ Had they really been standing so close? _ Stiles had gotten used to casual touching over the week, the way a hand would settle on his shoulder or the back of his neck.

Chris wasn’t aging gracefully, the man and his defined muscles were taking aim at age with his glock and shooting it mercilessly. 

* * *

“Is that it?” He panted nose wrinkling in confusion. 

“Time flies when you're having fun.”

Stiles had been working with the older man for the past week, doing some light lifting (Chris’s words, not his) and shooting. The result left Stiles aching all over in places he wasn’t used to and cranky as hell. 

“I wouldn’t exactly call it fun hanging out with an old geezer like you.”

Before that statement might have earned him an eye roll or a fond head shake and shoulder bump, now there was nothing. In fact, Chris had been strangely distant lately.

“What's your problem?”

“My problem? I’m not the one who whined his way through two reps only one of the two he managed to do.” The hunter mused. Stiles groaned in dissent, flopping down on his stomach and wincing again.  _ Why was ab upkeep so hard? _

“It was more a light protest than anything else.” 

Chris watched him with mild disinterest from where he sat. Stiles stayed where he was sprawled out on the exercise mat. The man had no idea what he was doing. Each movement of his hand down the barrel of the gun showed of the flex of his muscles. The tight shirt Chris was wearing left nothing to the imagination, and Stiles couldn’t look away as those strong fingers worked a cloth all the way around the hard metal length of the Desert Eagle. 

_ Dear god.  _

Stiles’s dick agreed. 

Right now he felt boneless. The kind of tired where his muscles were pleasantly warm and achy. Stiles eyes fluttered shut and he let himself lay back on the mat.He’d let Chris take whatever he wanted, do whatever he wanted without protest. 

A low groan escaped from Stiles, and Chris looked up from what he was doing. 

“You alright?” The hunter's voice was still dry and rough, sounding like he had just woken up and it wasn’t helping Stiles’ situation. The teen shifted on his arms, propping himself up.

“No, I’m not alright. I failed my last two chem quizzes in a row. Somehow being tardy is an acceptable mark down. Harris knows I need this credit!” Stiles growled.

“The man is the Dumbledore to my Tom Riddle and. . . “  _ You and your stupid beard and your stupid muscles and stupid caring all the time are too fucking hot for your own good. My teen hormones can’t take it.  _

“And,” Chris implored, not missing a beat.

“There is no ‘and.’ I’m just stupid and fucking things up again, that's all.” 

“Enough,” The hunter commanded. He hated when Stiles talked about himself like that. 

“Now tell me what's really bothering you.” 

Turbulent blue eyes met his and pinned him to the ground with the sheer force of their glare. 

“Or you’ll what, pistol whip me?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I. . .” Stiles huffed. “No.” 

Chris stood, gaze narrowed as he moved from the chair to crouch down in front of Stiles. If he looked up, his face would almost be in the man’s crotch. 

“Then what is it?”

“You won’t touch me!” He blurted then slapped a hand over his mouth.

“I -” Chris started as if to explain himself.

“Don’t say it...” Stiles bit his lip daunted. The object of his desire was so close he could reach up and yank him down for a kiss. His mouth watered and he swallowed harshly. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. Chris was just so earnest looking down at him. 

The lines in the man's face had softened and those blue eyes thawed some. 

“Stiles.” 

“I’m sorry,” He confessed. “I never intended to feel this way.”

“Feel how? Is someone bothering you at school? Is the workout too much?”

“No, it’s you!” Stiles was unable to take it any longer. “I want you!” 

“Don’t tell me I’m confused or don’t understand.” Stiles rose up, voice gaining confidence as he grabbed at Chris’s jacket. “There's too much shit going down. If I can kill a man then I can know when I want a man. I don’t just want a man that is...I want you.”

“Fine.” 

“Fine?” 

“You’ve made your position clear.” Chris’s expression was unreadable and Stiles searched for something- anything in his face. Nothing screamed “yes ok jump my bones.” He didn’t expect much, but a clue or a sign would be nice.

Stiles tugged again on his jacket. Chris raised an eyebrow and dropped fully to his knees. 

Those strong arms he’d admired so many times came around his body and tugged him close. 

Stiles buried his face in the hunter’s broad chest. He may not have been a werewolf, but the scent of the other man engulfed him nonetheless. Gun oil and Old Spice, the classic men's wash, Stiles’ brain provided. He couldn’t get enough of it. 

Chris’s chest rumbled with laughter at Stiles nuzzling. The younger man blearily blinked and looked up, long lashes dark around his wide eyes. Stiles surged up to boop his nose to Chris’s. Delighted, the other man nuzzled him back.

A hand was placed on his neck and suddenly everything was right in the world as Chris pulled him back in for another Eskimo Kiss. 

The grip centered him and allowed Stiles’ mind to settle and focus on the now. The now was pretty great, what with the way Chris’s eyes were shining in the light, and his lips now on Stiles’ lips. Holy shit, they were kissing.

The older man swiftly took control. He handled the transition between awkward mouth mashing to smooth, wet, and tantalizing kissing. It was the way he did most things; with frightening accuracy and precision. He didn’t so much as take over the kiss or plunder Stiles mouth; he conquered it. 

The thing about Chris’s kisses was that Stiles would never get over kissing Chris to begin with. To be fair, it’s not like he hadn’t kissed people before. There was Heather that one time. And that was Chris’s tongue against the top of his mouth like he owned the place. The hand on the back of his neck was the only thing keeping Stiles steady in the man's lap.

Chris’s hand was working its way under Stiles’ shirt. This was happening...this was really happening. He was making out with Chris Argent in the the man's bedroom and maybe - totally going to make it to second base. 

Stiles tossed an arm over Chris’s shoulder, trying anything to press closer. Each kiss stole his breath and left him gasping for the return of the man's lips on his. 

Chris’s hand moved up to tweak Stiles’ nipple, the rough pads of his fingers making it sensitive. Just the perfect bridge of painful and arousing. Stiles moaned and broke away panting. 

Chris pressed a kiss to the hollow of Stiles’ throat, laving it with attention. 

Other parts of him became interested in the proceedings, and from the press of Chris’s body, the man's cock was in full agreement with Stiles. 

The burn of his beard felt prickly and welcome. Stiles knew he’d proudly be wearing the evidence tomorrow. Teeth nibbled at his throat and the loudest of moans spilled from his lips. Stiles writhed in the man’s grip, body fighting to stay still.

“ _ Chris _ .” He said unable to do anything else. 

“I know, baby give it up.”

Stiles’ body sagged against Chris, the older man adjusted his grip to fully support the boy’s weight. “There we go easy does it.” His breath rattled around his chest. The heat of the hunter’s body and the pressure of his hands was the only thing grounding him. 

“Bedroom,” Stiles panted. “You and me. Bed. Now.”

“Demanding, aren’t we?” Chris chuckled and lifted Stiles with ease. 

His cock strained against his pants. He’d known Chris was strong before, he’d been thrown around by the man on more than one occasion.

Now he was able to trace the muscles in his stomach as they flexed. Chris easily held Stiles without a hint of strain.  _ Jesus. _

“Stiles,” Chris began, pausing to steal another kiss. “If there's anything you don’t like...”

“I’ll say so.” He promised.

“I’m going to trust you to.”

“Pinky swear.” Chris nibbled near his collarbone lavishing it with licks. 

“Uhh-h cross my heart and- ngh- hope to die.”

The hunter had paused in his ministrations and seemed to be waiting for something.

Stiles sat on the bed briefly confused by the loss of contact. Oh he needed to reply.

Was he ready for this? He couldn’t just follow his dick no matter how hard mini Stiles was pointing. He wanted Chris-no he needed him, it was more than just the right press of their bodies. Stiles could see himself waking up to those kind but steely blue eyes. 

“It’s fine if you’ve changed your mind and want to stop here, I won’t think any less of you.” In opposition to that statement the man reached a drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube. 

Stop? Wait what? Who had suggested stopping not him!

“I know.” He smiled up at the other man.“I’d like you to stop fucking around and get over here and wreck me.”

“Behave.” 

“Yes, Sir.” He stuck his tongue out. 

“So we're playing it that way?” The man mused prowling into Stiles’ space. The boy leaned back and gave, gave until he felt himself hit the bed. The further he leaned, the further Chris pushed, trailing his hands over the planes of Stiles’ body under his clothing. His own hands felt unwieldy as he tried to peel the shirt off _ . He didn’t have to worry though, Chris would take care of it, take care of him. _

Those sure hands tugged off Stiles’ shirt easily, manipulating his body and laying him back out. He felt exposed and raw, laid bare under Chris’s gaze.

“You think I didn’t notice how you looked at me, boy?”

“D-Chris” He choked back the word. Stiles’ face was red as he ducked his head. He had almost said it, a word that could ruin this whole thing.  _ Daddy. _

“ I couldn’t help it.” He confessed mumbling into Chris’s shoulder. 

“Couldn't help what?” The man asked. “Teasing me with that shirt riding up your body.”

“More skin.skin. for you to mark up.” Barrier removed Chris didn't hold back.

He lavished Stiles with kisses, traced the moles on his skin and sucking hickies over freckles. 

It was almost too much. 

“You're driving me crazy.” 

“It's only fair, baby.” The hunter wrapped a hand around Stiles’ cock and tugged. 

Stiles groaned low as the man nibbled on his bottom lip. 

_ No Chris definitely hadn’t missed his slip earlier.  _

The hunter hardly gave him a choice as he manipulated him into position. 

Stiles went pliant under him, caught on the edge of desperation, barely holding back pleas.

“I’m going to work you open on my fingers first then you can cum on my cock.”

His dick twitched and he shuddered in frustration. Stiles desperately rubbed against the bed, seeking any source of friction. The slide of his dick on the silky cloth did little to ease his mounting arousal. Chris's calloused hand pinned him down, forcing Stiles to turn his head to the side. 

"Be good," The man warned.


End file.
